Malfoy Inheritance
by AngelDemon18
Summary: Draco Malfoy was living the life of a confirmed bachelor until he discovered a condition in his inheritance. In order for him to inherit his title as Lord Malfoy and the riches that come with it he must marry and produce and heir. Let the hunting begin!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"I have to do what?!"Draco Malfoy, heir to the prestigious Malfoy family, cried out in shock. "You have got to be shitting me! How does something this vital get ignored for so long?"

Angrily, he slammed his fist down onto his mahogany desk, ignoring the dull ache in his hand in favor of the one going on between his temples. He raised an aristocratically shaped eyebrow at his cowering advisors, making them sweat underneath his gaze.

"S-sir, I assure you it was only brought to our attention recently; b-but surely you-you noticed your own father's example?" one of the braver few bit out. He fearfully looked to his fellow lackeys in hopes of assistances.

Draco continued to glare back at the milksop and waved his hand in frustration, "It was different for him. He was already involved with my mother. All they needed were a few legal matters tied up and everything was set! I have exactly six months. Six months! Even if I was bloody Casanova I couldn't accomplish this task!"

All three men huddled together, trying to avoid their employer's eye. They knew they had messed up as soon as they had received their missive. Each had meekly pulled their findings together and crept into the darkened Malfoy study, ready for the blonde's ire. Now the only thing they could do was to help fix the situation and hope to Merlin that Draco did not pull out his wand and curse them.

Draco sneered over at one of the more owlish looking advisors, his voice deceptively calm, "Do you think you could succeed?"

Nervously, the owl dropped his glasses to the floor, allowing them to scuttle across the bare marble floor. He tried to reply, but was quickly cut off.

"Of course you can't! If I can't you sure as hell couldn't! Now get the sodding hell out of my sight and don't darken my grate until you've discovered a solution to my problem!" the heir thundered. The three quickly grabbed up their papers and belongings and escaped out the door.

Once the door closed with a click, the blonde slowly sank down into his soft leather chair, utterly defeated. He rubbed his temples, attempting to remove the pressure the stress of his predicament had given him. He raised his eyes to the portrait of his parents, hanging over a deep set marble fireplace. Unfortunately, this only brought on another bout of frustration and he lowered his eyes back down to his now vacant desk top.

"How did this ever get to this point? Father hinted at it, but never explained! I mean it is one of those things you might try and mention to your son eventually!"

He ran a hand through his fine flaxen hair. For once it was not fastened fashionably back with a tie. Instead, it hung loosely, framing his face and heightening his haggard appearance.

"I blame you, Father!" Draco shouted, raising a fist to his father's face. Sighing, he continued, "Better call up the mates and let them know they have a bachelor party to plan. Draco Malfoy is getting married!"

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"So, let me get this straight: Draco Malfoy, confirmed bachelor, is going to be married in six months. Good Merlin! Say it isn't so," Theodore Nott exclaimed, tossing back a swallow of good firewhiskey.

"Well, actually I was hoping I wouldn't leave it that late because an heir has to be confirmed as well. I'm already running short on time," Draco supplied, taking a swallow for himself. "Don't want to deal with anymore obstacles."

As soon as Draco had come to grips with his legal problems, his first call to order was to reach his two best friends, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. He sent each hasty message by owl, demanding their presence at a small out of the way pub near Diagon Alley. Surprised at the request, each complied, wondering what could possibly put the laid back pureblood in such a state.

"Explain," Blaise Zabini drawled, leaning back against the booth seat. He snuck a glance over at their buxom waitress, throwing her a discreet wink.

"To put it simply, in order for me to gain my inheritance I must be married and have secured an heir from my own bloodline. I thought after Father and Mum died in the last battle that I just automatically gained the title of Family Head along with the money and manors that entails. I noticed something was wrong when my records had yet to transition over, retaining my title as Malfoy heir. At first I thought it had all been confiscated because of my father's involvement with the Dark Lord. Instead I was informed of an even worse fate, marriage. Supposedly, all Malfoys are magically bound at birth. Some curse or another to keep the family from dying out… I won't go into details."

Blaise nodded his understanding, but Theodore still had questions, "You're father never mentioned anything to you about all this?"

"That cocky bastard?" Draco scoffed. "Probably never thought anything would happen to him. He was so sure that the Dark Lord would win…"

"Thank Merlin we saw the light," Zabini muttered."

"Yeah, means we aren't rotting away in Azkaban like a few others we know," Draco agreed. "But the problem is that father thought he would have secured a proper marriage for me with a few grandkids by the time he was on his deathbed. Wasn't as big priority at the time, what with all the death and chaos every whichaway."

"Ugh, completely ruined all the fun of our coming of age," Blaise sighed, letting his eyes roll over the establishment. It was a pretty dismal place, but it offered anonymity and discretion for all its well paying customers. The front was lit up by pained windows, partially obscured by dust and grime. Tables were placed around such windows, allowing the more honest patrons a cheery atmosphere while they enjoyed their dinner. The three Slytherins themselves were tucked away into a back corner booth, lit only by one stumpy candle in the center of their warped table.

"What would you know? You were off in Italy half the time. Me and Draco took the real brunt of war," Theodore roused. He banged his mug down onto the rickety table, slightly shaking the wood and sloshing drink over the edge of the mug.

Blaise turned all of his attention back onto his companions, "Excuse me! Who was it-"

"Enough! Other problems here to go over, gentlemen," Draco interrupted, slamming down his own mug. A few other patrons peered over at their hidden booth from whence the shouting had occurred. "Shut the hell up, both of you!"

Blaise threw each other one more glare before going back to their drinks, stubbornly ignoring the other. Theodore questioned, "Any requirements?"

"Good blood of course," Blaise put in.

"Is that a stab at my Lucy, Zabini?" Theodore demanded, clenching his mug a bit more tightly. Along with his refined airs, it was well known Nott had thrown out most of blood bias. Lucy, his fiancée, was someone whom his more prejudiced friends did not approve of; a half-blood.

"Knock it off! You're acting like a bunch of sniveling brats!" Draco growled. "And yes, for your information, Blaise, there are some blood requirements. I have a list here of all the proper families I can choose a spouse from. Quit a large size, in fact."

Here Draco began to ruffle through his robes, looking for said list. Finding the desired objects, he dropped a folded up ragged piece of parchment down on the table for his friends to pore over. Zabini grabbed it first and read off a few of the names

"_Prewett, Bones, Black…Weasley!"_

"You have got to be joking. A Weasley? Please tell me you won't lower yourself" Theodore gasped.

Blaise laughed, handing the parchment over, "What happened to your anti-prejudice?"

Theodore huffed, crossing two burly arms over his chest, "I do have some class, though you don't seem to recognize it."

Draco answered, "Of course I'm not going to marry a Weasley. You think I want to be associated with dirt and poverty? Problem is I think most of these families have either died off or intermarried so much that I can't tell who is too closely related. I know the Blacks are out, my mum being one and all."

"Do they have to be pureblooded?"

"What do you mean? Theo, this whole list is made up of pureblood names. I mean it was made over a hundred years ago or more."

"Some of these families intermarried with muggles and muggleborns, so some of these names are carried by half-bloods."

"Oh," Draco sighed, pondering over this recent development. He hadn't thought of the idea of marriage to a half-blood. He got along with most, but he had never considered dating any of them. He had just always assumed his father would produce some pureblood witch for him to marry, which brought him full circle back to the problem that his father had left him in this situation. "I have absolutely no clue. I don't even know who all on here is available."

Blaise sarcastically put it, "It's going to take a full six months just to track down all the possible descendents."

Draco frowned as his impossible task became even more impossible. He had thought that with a list of family names to choose from it would narrow down his prospects; instead it brought on even more dread.

"Not helping, Blaise," Theodore disapproved. He tried to calm the blonde beside him down with his next question "Along with the right breeding, what else is needed?"

Startled at the question, Draco pondered a few seconds before answering, "Obviously fertility."

"Yes, well, witches or wizards?" Zabini drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Oh! It didn't specify, just that they had to be able to bear my heir."

Theodore nodded, "Good; that actually does narrow it down."

"How? Any wizard can become pregnant with the right potions in today's world," Zabini asked, confused.

Theodore just shook his head, "No, only proper XXY wizards can actually bear their offspring. The others have to have a caesarean in order to get the child out. A simple look at medical records will solve all these problems and narrow down your list."

"You mean once I get a list," Draco sighed dejectily. He ran a hand through his now loosely bound hair, pulling at a few strands in aggravation. He was going to have to look up medical records? This was turning into too more work than it was worth. He was used to the more laid back approach; stand back and let them come to him. A smile graced his features in nostalgia.

"Only way you're going to get that list is if somehow you gain access to the Hall of Records. Unfortunately, that includes only those working in the legal field, Aurors and the like," Blaise pessimistically added.

Draco looked hopefully over his other comrade, who only shook his head in the negative, "I can't access it any better than Blaise can. I'm over in foreign delegations; that contains its own records. Lucy is in research. There's no way she'd be granted access."

"Well, aren't you two help?"

"Sorry, Draco, but I'm sure you can find someone to help. Don't you have a full fleet of advisors at your beck and call?" Theodore responded.

"Not much good they are," Draco muttered. Sipping the rest in his glass he called over the waitress Blaise had earlier been eyeing up, asking for another refill. Smiling coyly back at him, she leaned suggestively over the table and took the men's mugs and promised to return soon. Once she had left the table descended into silence; no one having anything productive to say. Just then a loud ruckus, coming from the entrance of the pub, interrupted their revere.

"Oy! Harry, mate, I still can't believe you said no!" a loud gangly red head exclaimed, bursting into the establishment. He stomped over to a table near the door underneath one of the brightly lit windows. Two others followed him in through the door, walking in at less of a hurry.

A bushy haired brunette plopped herself down beside her irate companion and snapped, "Oh, Ron, leave him alone already! It's Harry's choice. If you're so for it why don't you take the job?"

"Oh, maybe it's because I wasn't offered it? Only senior officers are given the chance, Hermione!" Ron Weasley whined. He sulkily crossed his arms over his chest and began to pout

"That's why I didn't want it, Ron," a slighter man quietly replied. The man had ink black hair, grown long in an attempt to tame the wild shag; but only produced more disorder. Behind the volume hid thick owlish glasses, vibrant green eyes, and a familiar shaped scar.

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"Potter," Draco growled. Both of his friends glanced in surprise at the blonde. They turned around in their seats to peer over at the new customers. They were a little louder than normal, but didn't appear to be causing any problems. Rolling their eyes in unison the turned back around to heir frustrated companion.

"Come on, Drake," Theodore frowned.

Blaise agreed, "Highly childish of you, mate."

Over across the floor, another group of friends were deep in their own argument. Harry Potter and his best friend Ron Weasley had both entered the Auror program after Hogwarts, each on equal standing. Unfortunately for Harry, the minister had immediately begun to hint at the different promotions Harry could receive in honor of his getting rid of the feared Dark Lord, Voldemort. Not wanting to be raised up in such a high position, nor having the experience for it; Harry had tried to ignore the offers. Today the minister had been more aggressive and openly offered him a seniority position that Ron had been dreaming of. He humbling turned down the offer, but was now facing his best friends wrath.

"Harrrreee, a chance like this doesn't come around to people like me, "Ron continued to whine.

"Ron, I'm not right for the job. There are plenty of other better qualified people available for it. I don't need the money and I know the only reason it was offered to me was because of my fame," Harry tried to explain. He rubbed a hand nervously through his untidy hair and turned his eyes away from his friends gaze.

"See, Ron. Harry here was being sensible," Hermione smiled, patting Harry's hands. She then pulled a large tome from her purse and began to immerse herself into whatever subject interested her at the moment, believing the situation to be over. Trying to avoid anymore comments by Ron, Harry signaled over to a waitress, hoping food would deter all other arguments that could crop up.

Kicking the already abused table leg, Ron muttered, "Still, would have been brilliant to have someone on the higher up to help out his best friend."

Harry smiled over apologetically, "And if was offered for the right reasons I would have taken it. And help 'up' my best friends in the process."

Back over in the obscure corner booth, a blonde was having problems getting over his anger at seeing the new crowd. He gulped down his new mug of firewhiskey and darted his gaze back and forth to his oblivious friends. They were enjoying their drink and indulging in pleasantries about work and politics, ignoring the heir's ire.

"Humph! Let's get out of here. They seem to let any sort of people here," Draco proclaimed loudly, earning him a few glares from the barman and his waitresses. He gracefully pushed Theodore from his seat and slid out from the booth. He then snobbishly wiped non-existent dirt from his robes and then made his way up to door, leaving the other two to catch up. Theodore hastily threw down a few galleons, made his way after Draco, and readying himself for the upcoming argument to occur once they passed the Golden Trio's table.

Zabini stood his ground, refusing to follow such childish behavior. Instead he slowly finished his drink and continued to pore over Draco's notes. Surprised, he read over them once more. Laughing, he rose from his seat, planning on exiting the building. One line in particular had amused him and he couldn't wait to share his humor with Theodore. At the bottom of Draco's parchment read a lone name, so far to end that it had repeatedly been passed over for generations.

Zabini glanced over at the blonde's back and then over at an ink black mop of hair, "Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I would like to ask everyone who reads to please leave a review. It doesn't have to be a long one, just saying you what you liked or didn't like about it. I've gotten tons of alerts, but very few reviews… so sad.. thanks to all those who did!! And I hope all everyone who reads this story enjoys!**

**Chapter 2**

"Hello, Potter," drawled a strangely familiar voice that sent shivers of pleasure down Harry's spine. "Having a young lover's spat?"

The three former Gryffindors looked up to see Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott looming over their table with identical sneers of contempt across their lips.

"What hole did you crawl out of, Malfoy?" Ron demanded, ears slowly turning pink. He reached down to grasp his wand tightly in his hand.

"Malfoy, Nott, always a pleasure," Hermione frowned, laying aside her book in favor of her wand.

"I don't suppose you two would mind sodding off now would you, Malfoy?" Harry quipped, slowly rising from his seat.

Draco stepped forward, forcing Harry to stand to his full height which, unfortunately, was only up to his nemesis's shoulders. Draco, taking advantage of the difference, peered down his aristocratic nose at his longtime rival. Sniffing, "Now, now. Language, Potter. You're crudeness offends my delicate ears."

"Delicate ears my arse," Ron muttered, earning him a scowl from Nott.

Hermione, watching the scene before her and predicting how things would begin to unfold, tried to find a way to diffuse the situation. She knew that if Ron or Harry said one more word there was going to be an all out duel right there in the pub, possibly injuring a customer or destroying the pub itself. Draco and Harry were eying each other like feral animals while Ron was measuring up Theodore, as though trying to determine if he could take on the burlier wizard. 'Theodore! Of course!' she thought. Quickly she called out, "Nott! How's Lucy? I haven't seen her at the office in quite some time. I hope everything's all right."

All heads snapped around to gape in shock at the bushy haired witch. She forced a smile at the curly haired Slytherin, hoping he would take the bait. Theodore in turn began to blush and shuffle his feet, "You know my Lucy?"

Finding the hold she needed, she pressed forwards, "Of course! We work together in research. She's in the charms division, so I don't see her as often; but she's always willing to go with a few of us out to lunch during the week. She doesn't have anything too serious, does she?"

Theodore shook his head slightly, eyes beginning to soften. Relaxing once more, Hermione slowly coaxed him into a pleasant conversation about the new research and the previously missing girl. Ron gaped at Hermione in horror, wondering how she could possibly talk about such frivolous stuff with someone who had once been a possible Death Eater. Confused, he slowly eased himself back down in his chair. His grip on his wand loosened and his shoulders slumped in betrayal.

Harry tried to push at Draco's shoulder, attempting to move the other wizard out his personal space; but only caused him to stumble backwards a step. Frustrated, he dropped down into his seat and tried to ignore the aggravating blonde and his lackey. Glaring at the tousled hair, Draco brushed off his robes from where the blood-traitor had touched them and tapped Theodore on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

Theodore and Hermione looked up to see the absolute loathing on Malfoy's face. Only Harry Potter could bring Draco to the boiling point. Sighing, Theodore backed away from the muggleborn, nodding his apologies and prepared to leave. Hermione in turned rolled her eyes. She hated this stupid feud between all of them, but didn't know a way to stop them without completely obliviating the last twelve years of their life. Suddenly, something clicked in her head causing her to call out to the purebloods, "Oh, Malfoy, by the way, I heard about your inheritance problem."

Draco sharply pivoted, glaring daggers at the muggleborn woman. Hermione flinched back from such a look while the two men on either side of her looked on in puzzlement.

"What do you know, Granger?" Malfoy demanded, wand pointed directly in her face.

"Malfoy," Harry growled, pointing his wand back at the blonde's face.

"S-sorry! I didn't realize you wanted it was such a sore spot. Really, it isn't something to be so ashamed of," she explained, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "That is if you want some help."

"I've got enough help, thanks!" Draco snapped, turning once more for the door. Theodore instead stayed where he was to listen to the woman's explanation.

"Oh, so you _do_ have someone on your staff that has access to the Hall of Records. You do want to be able to find every possible spouse out there don't you?"

Ron spluttered, "Marriage? He was so worked up about marriage? He makes it sound like he was off to get his soul sucked out by a bunch of dementors. Really, all my brothers have gotten married and it's no big deal. You just find a witch, convince her you're her last chance at a wonderful life, and grab her up before someone else comes along."

All four glared at the loud-mouthed red head. Hermione shook her in disgust, "Really, Ronald. Is that all it takes? Then how come you haven't, what was it, 'grabbed her up before someone else comes along'? Please leave this to the ones who actually have an inkling of what they are talking about."

"I thought finding a woman who was stupid enough to marry you wouldn't be too hard, Malfoy. I'm sure there are plenty of brainless gold diggers out there such ready for your proposal," Harry laughed.

Hermione sighed, "Its not just marriage to anyone, Harry. He has to fall in love and marry someone who matches the Malfoy Inheritance regulations all within six months. If I remember correctly you have to produce an heir, too."

"Ugh! The ferret has to reproduce?! We don't need any more of his genes rolling around out here," Ron blanched in nausea.

"Problem, you can't have a kid in six months even if you got married and your wife got pregnant today," Harry pointed out.

"Who said I was going to pick a witch, Potter?" Draco asked, raising one aristocratic eyebrow. Harry's face began to redden in embarrassment and refused to keep eye contact, preferring to peer down at his shoes.

Theodore interrupted, "He only has to get his spouse pregnant, in order for it to work."

Draco, his patience finally disappearing, spit out, "Let's go. I wish you would desist discussing my private life with every vagabond you come upon, Nott. What in Merlin's name is taking Zabini so damn long? Zabini, hurry up!"

Blaise Zabini strolled up out from the darkened corner of the room. He had Draco's list of marrigable families in his hand and a thoughtful expression upon his face. He approached the Gryffindors' table, but remained silent. His puzzled expression became even more pronounced when he glanced over at Harry. Harry had to suppress another shiver, one that wasn't as pleasurable, at such a calculating look. He averted his eyes in hopes that the black man would ignore him, but only felt the eyes pressing into the back of his head. Zabini turned away and followed after Theodore, leaving Malfoy behind with the Golden Trio.

Draco turned to leave as well, but not without talking to Hermione, "Granger."

"Yes?"

"Access to the Hall of Records"

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprised, "Yes."

"Owl my advisors. I'll need someone competent on this case and a list of names I can contact," with that he sauntered out of the pub leaving behind two gaping men and one smiling brunette.

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Two hours later, after being decently fed the three were getting up to leave. Ron and Hermione appeared to have much on their minds, not noticing their friend's dazed state. Harry was still going over the shiver that had gone down his spine at the sound of Malfoy's voice, the voice he was supposed to hate on the principle of which it belonged to. Instead, it left him with a hammering in his chest and a weird feeling in the pit of his belly.

"Come on, Harry, we're leaving," Ron called, throwing down a few sickles to pay for his meal. Harry reddened in embarrassment at the path his thoughts were taking him. He nervously ran a hand through his tousled hair and got up along with his two companions.

They left out the front door into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Each said their goodbyes, promising to meet up again later that week for dinner and began to part. Hermione headed off southbound towards the Hall of Records and the adjoining researchers department, while Ron headed straight for the Ministry building, assuming Harry was right behind him. Harry continued to stand on the front stoop alone and in silence. Making up his mind he raced after his more open-minded friend.

"Hermione! Hermione, wait up!" he called, his voice getting trampled by the crowd of shoppers calls. She did halt once, looking around for the voice that called her name; but not seeing him, she continued on her way. He tried to push his way through the crowd, but couldn't seem to make it in time as he watched her disappear around a shop window. Dejected, he halted his steps.

"I'll just owl her later," he decided. He wandered back in the direction Ron had left. He had wanted to ask Hermione why she was willing to help Malfoy out when he had always been downright cruel to her all through school. 'Maybe he hit her with a curse or spell of some sort that forces people to like him,' Harry thought. 'It could have bounced off onto to me, too. It would explain the weird feelings I had around him. Maybe I should ask Ron?' Instantly, he shook that thought from his head. There was no way he was going to get into a conversation like that with Ron. Stuffing his hands into his robe pockets, Harry shuffled off to the ministry.

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"So what's your plan, Draco? You going to use that nosy Granger's connections?" Theodore asked disgust displayed plainly upon his face. Zabini curled his lip at the possibility. Draco ignored his comments and finished up his letter. Ending with an elegant flourish to his signature, he handed it off to his regal eagle owl, Zeus.

"As a matter of fact, I was considering the offer," he calmly explained. Smugly, he sat down into his desk chair, glancing up at his now irritated mates. "What? It's not like you two were proving to be much help. Six months, gentlemen, not six years!"

"But it's that mudblood!" Zabini tried to reason.

"Yes, I know," Draco grimaced. "But desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Next thing you know you'll be all buddy buddy with blood traitors like her, "Blaise muttered. He walked over to one of the dark leather couches and picked up a picture sitting in a gilt frame depicting two women. One had a scowl upon her more masculine features; the other was dark haired, pug nosed woman, smiling daintily up at the camera. "You could always marry Millicent or Pansy. Make things easier."

"You won't have to worry about all this searching, "Theodore agreed. He took the gilt frame out of Blaise's hand and watched their former classmates.

"Ugh, those two hags? I'd rather not! Millicent is ugly as hell!" Draco complained. "Hand over that list, Blaise. I will need it tomorrow. I plan to skive off on work and get started on all of this."

Reluctantly, Blaise handed back the list from his robe pocket. Before giving it back thought, he read over it, lips twitching in amusement. "You know, Draco, you could always marry Potter."

"You're joking?! He's on there?" Theodore laughed, snatching it out of black man's hands.

"Potter?!" Draco gaped. Swearing, he grabbed the parchment out of both their hands, practically tearing it in the process.

Blaise hid is amusement at Draco's antics and leaned back in his seat propping his feet up on one of the antique coffee tables. He crossed his well made dragon hide boots, "I thought you didn't have a gender preference? Or is it this whole animosity between you two that makes you say no?"

Theodore crossed the room and put a reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder, "Draco, he's just kidding. There's no way you have to consider, Potter."

Draco blanched, "Potter's one of my choices?"

"Think about all the money you would get from such a match and all the prestige…"

Draco thought of the possibility of marrying the petite brunet. The prestige with allying his family with "boy wonders" would finally bring the Malfoy family name out of the gutter. 'But he's not much of a boy anymore, is he?' his mind reminded him. He remembered those vivid green eyes widening upon Draco's appearance, the way his face reddened in passion, though he had to remind himself it was in anger, and the way his body was pressed flush up against his ready for battle against the evil Slytherin. He enjoyed the reaction his voice had upon Potter, sending shivers up and down his spine, though the savior had tried to hide it. He really wouldn't mind causing it again. Slowly a blush began to appear upon the blonde's pale cheeks. Laughing softly to himself, he whispered, "Potter."


	3. Chapter 3

**I want to thank everyone who has read this story and I especially want to thank everyone who reviewed! It means a bunch thanks! Oh and I definitely want to thank my beta AlrxandraBC!**

**Thanks!**

**Chapter 3**

"Ok, so I'll just take these files and transfer them over to-"

"Yes, yes. I understand."

Taken back by the abruptness of her employer, the young red-headed secretary huffed in annoyance. Here she was trying to help her boss prepare for the Head of Department's inspection, lying to those around her about what was really being researched in that tiny office and all she got was sarcasm and churliness. She deserved a little bit of respect. Angrily she slammed the files in her hands down onto the overcrowded desk.

"Will that be all, Ms. Granger," she sniffed.

Hermione, surprised by the tone coming from her secretary, looked up from where she had been copying information from a large, dusty tome. Now focused more on the world around her, she noticed the high color of the other woman's cheeks and her glassy eyes. Taking interest at once she asked, "Is everything all right, Ms. Bodkin?"

Barely suppressing the urge to scream, Ms. Bodkin gave just a sharp nod of her head. Relieved that everything appeared okay, Hermione busily waved her out of the room, intent on getting back to her work, "Good, but I'm really quite busy here. I'll let you know when I need you."

Angrily, Ms. Bodkin turned sharply on her heel and stiffly marched out of the room, fuming under her breath about inconsiderate bosses. Hermione had continued to ignore her and her door slamming, hastily scribbling down notes and double checking with the large books that were crammed on her desk. Finally about an hour of complete silence later, her quill paused. She lifted her head up, popping the crick out her neck, and reviewed the parchment laid out before her.

Satisfied by her own work, she lifted it up to fold it in precisely three times before sealing it. She then pushed back from her desk and hurriedly left her office, past her still disgruntled secretary and out into the hall. She set off immediately towards the owlry with only 

one thought on her mind. Once reaching the room of her desire, she pushed open the door only to be hit by the horrid stench of mildew hay and owl droppings. Scrunching her nose in disgust, she hunted for the nearest free bird to hand her letter off to.

"Hurry now," she ordered. Giving her a reproachful look, the owl ruffled its feathers and took off through an open window. Hermione, relaxed at last, wandered over to the window the bird had flown through and peered out, watching the pedestrians below. "This should get things started I hope."

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Two days later a somewhat less aggravated Ms. Bodkin knocked softly upon Hermione's door and entered with a note in her hand. Hermione gave the red-head a soft smile and beckoned her over.

"A Mr. Malfoy asked if you would mind meeting him for lunch today, during your break at the Hollyhag Restaurant," Ms. Bodkin relayed. Curious as to why the well known her to the Malfoy riches would possibly want to meet with the ordinary (and in her opinion, plain) employer, she waited for an answer and observed the expression upon Hermione's face.

To the disappointment of the younger woman, Hermione gave nothing away. Nodding her head in agreement, she shooed the nosy secretary out. Alone, she began to collect and bring together all of her researcher's tools and documents, shrinking and placing them into her rather worn bag. Satisfied that she had everything, she marched herself out of her office, a smile of purpose gracing her face.

"Ms. Granger! Ms. Granger, what should I tell the Head when he arrives? He's supposed to be here in a few minutes for your monthly inspection and will want an update on your progress. I don't have anything to give him!" the red-head questioned, panic creeping into her voice.

Barely sparing her a glance, the brunette called back, "Tell him I'll will just have to speak with him later. I have something more important to do today than work."

Everyone who had heard this announcement instantly stopped what they were doing to watch the bushy-haired witch walk out of the office, shock etched upon each face. Harry and Ron, had they been there, would have easily fallen into a faint at hearing such words. Hermione, the one person who had always put her school studies, and later work, ahead of social calls, had willingly left in favor of meeting some man for lunch. What was the world coming to?

Oblivious to the stares, Hermione embarked out into the street, off towards the restaurant of choice. She had heard of the Hollyhag, but had never been inside as it was too expensive for her measly salary. Only the rich socialites of the wizarding world congregated there. Excited to finally see inside, she forced her way through the throngs of people, bumping her bag into everyone she passed. One time she hit a rather diminutive wizard who had promptly been flung sideways by the impact. She hardly had time for an apology before he was swallowed up again by the crowd. Luckily, the number of people began to thin out the closer she got to the restaurant, having entered a more exclusive area.

She arrived on time and crossed through an intricately patterned glass door where the colors seemed to fade and reappear in a seductive manner. Though excited that she was finally going to see such a trendy place, she had a niggling feeling that she didn't belong. It could have been the fact that the host was giving her a frosty glare, refusing to acknowledge her entrance. It could have also been the way the people behind her pushed her out of their way as if she was invisible or a house elf. Hoping that Malfoy had arrived earlier, she tried to peer over the tall host's shoulders, but repeatedly blocked. Frustrated she plopped herself down into one of the velvet lined couches by the door in preparation for a long wait.

About that moment two dignified looking witches strutted in, earning the attention of the snobby host. Instantly, he snapped to attention and properly escorted them to one of the tables lining lightly painted walls. Relieved that the pretentious attitude was gone, Hermione swept her gaze around the room. It was very classy, painted a light shade of blue and accented in darker shades and gold. Two large windows lined adjacent walls, but at the moment were blocked by heavy royal blue curtains. The tables and chairs were each uniquely carved with intricate patterns upon their mahogany surface. The centerpieces were made up of golden fauna in all different types of species.

"Granger!" a voice interrupted, breaking her out of her reverie. "There you are! Why didn't you already get us a seat? Francis! A table for two, quickly now!"

The voice had a distinctive drawl to it and was accompanied by familiar platinum blonde hair. The man stepped up beside Hermione and snapped his fingers at the returning host.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am so sorry. I will have your table ready immediately," the now more gracious man gushed. Hastily, he set off to prepare their table.

"He wasn't so nice a few minutes ago. Do you own the place or something?" Hermione asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Cheekily, he replied, "It's his duty to keep out the lower classes; that is refusing to seat them."

"I didn't think you could possibly get any snobbier, but I was wrong, Malfoy. You have just reached a whole new level."

The two were interrupted from their possible argument by the arrival of their host, ushering them to their table. They were placed in the center where they could see everyone and be seen. Draco haughtily offered his arm to the muggleborn and escorted her to her seat. Sitting down across from her, he called up a waiter, wasting no time in pleasantries.

"I really don't have much time to spare here, so would you mind if I go ahead and order for you. I am quite the expert in cuisine."

Minding very much, but refusing to cause a scene she nodded her head. Watching him order some sort of delicacy, she folded her arms over her chest. He gave off a confident air, but the shaking of his hands gave away his nervousness.

"All right, Malfoy. You want to get down to business right away?" she snapped.

Jerking his head up, Malfoy seemed surprised at her response, "Got a problem, mud-Granger."

Noticing the slip, her irritation increased, "Yes, yes, I do, but that's neither here nor there. I have your list."

"My list?"

"Yes, your list. Your list of all the suitable spouses? I took the liberty of already doing the research and compiling a list of all the available partners. I hope you know that because of this project I had to put aside my own very important-"

"Yes, yes," he waved off, clearly dismissing her concerns. "You already finished the list? I thought that would have taken about a month to complete."

"It would have if any other wizard had tried. It really was rather easy to accomplish if you know your way around the Hall of Records and know how to ask the right questions."

"Ask the right…?"

"Don't worry about it. All you need to know is that every descendant of one of those names is on that list, dismissing the squibs who I didn't think you would ever consider."

Malfoy's whole face lit up like a child at Christmas, "Well, do you have it? Please don't tell me you left it!"

"Malfoy," Hermione warned. Aggravated with the temperamental blonde, she dug around through her bag trying to recover the file of notes she made and slapped them upon the table. Malfoy tentatively reached a hand out to touch them.

"They aren't going to bite and I didn't put a stinging hex on them," she teased.

The blonde only responded with a glare and snatched the file off the table to read over. They sat in silence for a while as Malfoy reviewed all the names and Hermione enjoyed her meal. By the time she finished, he had set down the notes aside beside his plate.

"There are a fair range of people on here I have never even heard of. You're sure all of these names are descendants of these families?"

"I'm positive. I checked and double checked," Hermione huffed, not used to having her skills put into question. "Some won't appear familiar for many of these people are from the continent, having migrated over there because of all the wars Britain has had in the past one hundred years."

"Foreign wizards?"

"Yes, I noticed the majority tended to be either French or German."

"I thought you were supposed to be helping me, Granger. You seem to have just added to my work," Malfoy argued.

"I did!" she exclaimed. "I've given you every name available! How is that not help? All you have to do is narrow down to your country or countries of preference."

"Well, I guess it is a start," he nodded, shrinking down the notes to place in his breast pocket. "Thank you, Ms. Granger. I hope I can count on you if I am in need of more help?"

Hermione blushed, but promised to respond to his message if her ever owled her. Solemnly, he stood up and offered her his arm. She grabbed her bag as he threw down a bag of galleons. Eyes widening perceptively, Hermione gaped at the large amount spent on such an informal luncheon.

"Is this place really all that expensive? It seems like such a waste when you could put this money to some good use, like a charity or organization such as…"

Hermione was cut off by a large sigh, "You really haven't changed that much since school, have you? Still off helping completely pointless causes."

"I'll have you know that…"

"How about a trade instead? You don't blather on to me about some sort of charity and help me with this and I'll guarantee you and the Weasel a dinner here on the house, yes? Sounds reasonable?"

"Well, I…"

"It's a simple yes or no. And I happen to know that a certain Chudley Canon's Keeper will be here on the twenty fifth. The Hollyhag's tables will be hard to come. I can even throw in a seat by the keep himself."

Hermione's lips started to twitch, threatening to turn into a smile, "Mr. Malfoy, are you bribing me?"

Returning with his own dazzling smile that sent many a witch and wizard to their knees, he replied, "Only if it's working, Ms. Granger."

Taking the proffered arm, she followed the blonde to the door, ignoring the stares she received from the envious patrons. She was too excited about continuing her new project for the heir and informing her boyfriend that he was soon to be eating dinner with none other than his favorite Quidditch player of all. She desperately wanted to leave Malfoy there and find someplace where she could giggle incessantly like a little school girl; but, unfortunately, had to remain stoic around the slippery Slytherin and his peers.

Outside, Malfoy released her hand from his arm and nodded towards her, "I will keep you informed of my decision. As soon as I do I wish to have addresses, medical, and magical records of these people in a timely manner. I am not a patient man, Granger."

"I understand, Malfoy. I did go to school with you for seven years. I think I am aware of your more selfish attitudes."

Wincing slightly at that last comment, he bid her good day and turned to leave in the opposite direction. He had to hurry back to his manor, or better yet, "Zabini's office is near here. I'll drop by and show him the lists."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey Sorry for such a long delay!! I was out of town for a whole week helping fix up houses for some of the poorer communities in the US… and I didn't have axcess to a computer or even my cell phone.. so sorry for the major delay hope you enjoy.. probably has like tons of errors, but I can't seem to find my beta anywhere and I tried to find most errors sorry if I do!!**

**Chapter 4**

"What do you want, Draco? I'm a little swamped here in case you can't tell," said a highly frazzled Blaise Zabini when Draco walked in. He was currently rubbing the bridge of his nose, staring earnestly down at his company's records and trying to decipher the mess his vice president had created. He had stupidly allowed the bumbling man a go at gathering the records in profit and costs and consolidating it all down into one file. Unfortunately, this proved too difficult a challenge for the idiot and now Blaise was stuck going back over everything and reconsolidating it. Irritated already, he really wasn't in the mood to hear more of Draco's woes.

"I can see," the blonde responded. "I thought you already took care of all this? I would have directed it to some underling."

Gritting his teeth, Blaise glared up at his soon to be former best friend, "I did. Now I have to do it again."

Ignoring the look, Draco continued, "Sorry, mate. I feel for you, really I do."

"If you truly did, you would get out and leave me alone. You are still here, however, and I am forced to hear you speak," Blaise snapped.

Recognizing the dangerous tone in his friend's voice, Draco finally backed down, "I understand. I just need your opinion on one thing and I'll get out of your presence."

Blaise slowly raised his dark brown eyes to peer into pleading silver ones. Sighing, he lowered his quill and put aside his stack of parchment. Gesturing for Draco to continue, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his aching neck muscles. The blonde stepped forward and threw down a shrunken file he had pulled out of robe pocket.

"What is it?"

"This is a list of all the eligible witches and wizards I can marry using the family names the Malfoy Inheritance specified. Problem is about a half don't live here in Britain," Draco explained. He leaned onto Blaise's desk to read over his shoulder.

Still reviewing, Blaise asked, "Why is that a problem? You've dated a few foreign wizards."

"Because… I don't know," Draco hung his head, fingers coming up to brush through his hair. He took a ragged breath and looked over at Blaise, sitting calmly behind his desk, "It's the whole finalization of all this. I don't want to be married!"

Instantly, he jumped up and began to pace around the room, stopping occasionally to pick up objects at random and turn them over in his hands, "You know me, Blaise. I'm not the type to settle down. I can barely stay interested in one person for longer than a few weeks. Now I will be tied down for the rest of my life!"

Blaise stared blankly back at his friend, sympathy absent from his face, "Don't look to me, Draco, for answers. I'm not the sort who 'does' marriage. I really don't see what all the fuss is about, just marry some slightly attractive person and be done with it. You don't have to remain faithful. I never have and look at me."

Draco did. He saw success in every corner of the room and hanging from Blaise's robes. Wealthy and prestige were evident from the plaques and honors littering the walls. He knew for a fact that if he stepped outside the room he would find plenty of people whose sole job was to help their employer in any way, shape, or form. He could visualize the upscale loft Blaise owned on the fashionable side of town, filled to the brim with servants, collectibles, and rich furniture from all over the world. Blaise was known for his parties and crazy affairs, and therefore never alone; but at the same time the feeling of loneliness (or was it emptiness?) seemed to echo off the walls around him. The whole idea of living like that absolutely turned his stomach.

His thoughts began to take another turn. Instead of the stylishly furnished bachelor pad he and Blaise both owned, he envisioned Malfoy manor opened up again. Not only would his rooms be in use, but the parlor and formal dining room. Extra bedrooms filled with toys would be redone. He thought again of the blonde haired, green eyed children running up to him after a long day at the office. Someone to share his bed every night wouldn't be that difficult to get used to either.

"Honestly, all you have to do is once you get your heir on your spouse set them aside," Blaise's voice interrupted his fantasies. "So, you'll be bored for nine months; not that long if you look ahead at the bigger picture."

"An affair, Zabini? That's your good advice?" he spat.

Blaise shrugged his shoulders, "Don't look t me for romance, Malfoy. You want love and not lust; go to Theodore."

"I guess setting someone aside wouldn't be that impossible. Only my bank account will be truly affected," Draco agreed rather reluctantly.

Glad his advice was being considered, Blaise moved onto the more pressing problem, "Now foreign wizards. Once again, not that big of an issue. Most of the German wizards I have come in contact with through different business deals and other more illicit dealings have appeared to be up to caliber."

"I agree, but how am I to know that these are as well?"

"Simple really. You do it the old fashion way. Go on a few dates, Draco. It won't kill you."

"Yes, but it could be as painful as the Cruciatus Curse," Draco muttered under his breath. "How many names?"

"Says here, twenty wizards and ten witches."

"Write down their names, will you? I have to make sure the males are XXY before I meet them. No point picking one and finding out later they can't give me an heir. I don't have time to go through a sticky divorce and remarry. Personally, I'd like this all done with, in one go."

Blaise nodded and copied down the wizards names onto separate parchment and then moved down to the French names littering the page, "You have thirty wizards and fifteen witches. A bit more than before."

"Cross off the males. I've dated a few French wizard and they are nothing but trouble. I won't have my name tarnished by my spouse's indiscretions."

Blaise laughed, "I'm sure they aren't all like that, Draco."

"I'm quite aware they all aren't," Draco conceded. "But I have to narrow down this ridiculous list somehow. This is a good of reason as any. Mark them off."

Chuckling to himself, Blaise marked out the names and moved down to the British, "Interesting."

"What? The hundreds of names listed there?" Draco guessed.

"Actually, at the scarcity. It seems that you and many of the eligible witches and wizards over here are too closely related for a marriage to take place."

"So the total number?"

"Wizards are about one hundred and fifty and witches number fifty."

"I wonder why so few witches?"

"Many are already married, either to half bloods or mudbloods."

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust, "How revolting."

"Agreed."

Draco peered over Blaise's shoulder and quickly paled, "That's almost two hundred people! How will I ever get to each person! I will never make the six month deadline!"

Blaise ignored his friend's cries and reached under his desk for a small glass bottle with a wrinkled label encircling it. He placed it upon the desk top and slid across to the crazed blonde. Deftly, Draco caught the bottle and tried to read the ragged scrawl.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Calming Drought. I can't deal with you while you're acting like this. Take it or leave," Blaise demanded.

Shooting him a dirty look, Draco held his nose and threw the contents down the back of his throat, making a face as he swallowed. He tossed the bottle in the bin and plopped himself down in a leather chair across from Blaise.

"Better, now if you would use your brain and stop acting like an over active Hufflepuff you would see that many of these names are older wizards. I'm quite sure you don't want to marry some hundred year old hag, or do you?"

"Ugh! Of course not. Please, Zabini, what do you take me for?"

Blaise pulled his wand out from his robe pocket and waved it over the parchment, mumbling a few indecipherable words as well. The names began to rearrange themselves into two columns, one side obviously more fill than the other. Looking pleased with himself, Blaise smugly leaned back, "There you have it. No need for gratitude."

Draco sneered at Blaise's attitude and snatched the parchment off of his desk and poured over it, "That removes about hundred names."

"Don't forget you will eliminating more as you get their medical records back," Blaise reminded him.

Draco sniffed, "I know, Zabini."

He was tired of the condescending way Zabini was treating him. Him! The one who had used his contacts in order to make sure Zabini wasn't linked to any Death Eater activity during the Second War. All he asked in return for keeping him out of Azkaban was a little bit of help on his spouse search. Instead he received sneers and a Calming Drought.

"It's the least I could do," Zabini grinned.

"I know I could count on my true friends in my troubled times," Draco mocked, not sounding the least bit gracious. Nodding his head in Blaise's direction, he sauntered over to the floo and ignited the grate. He then tossed a handful of powder from the intricately designed floo pot upon the cherry mantle and disappeared into green flames.

WwWwwwWWWwwwwWWWWwwwWWW

Later that day, Ron Wesley and Harry Potter could be found crashed out on their sofa; one slumped over in a light doze and the other with his head propped up upon his arm, listening to the Quidditch scores. It had been a rather stressful day, dealing with pretty demanding bosses, and they knew later that evening they would dealing with an even more demanding witch. Utterly exhausted, they had immediately come home with the hope that they could grab an hour of silence and relaxation.

Unfortunately, their rest was interrupted by a loud voice calling from the grate, "Ron! Harry!"

Harry raised his head up in time to see his bushy haired friend appear into the living room he and Ron shared. He gave her a rather weary smile, " 'lo, 'mione."

She replied with a smile of her own and started to brush the soot from her traveling cloak. Satisfied she was clean enough; she pulled it off and flung it upon one of the squishy armchairs.

"Well, aren't you too exciting?" Hermione teased, subtly pointing over at an unconscious Ron. "I'm going to go ahead and get ready, yes? I think we should go out tonight."

"We are?"

"Yes, "she insisted, heading on back to the spare bedroom, bag in hand.

"I thought you wanted to be more economic and stop eating out as much," Harry called back, still splayed out across the sofa. He rubbed a hand through his already mussed hair, confused at Hermione's change.

Her head popped out around the door, "Yes, well… I still believe that, but once or twice isn't going to break anyone. I think we need some change don't we?"

Hastily, Harry nodded his head in agreement, not wanting to start a fight. He had seen way too many of Ron and Hermione's fights to learn when to agree and not to agree. Now was definitely one of those times. Unfortunately for Ron and Hermione's relationship, Ron had yet to catch on.

Harry reached over and sharply pinched Ron on the arm, hoping to waken him. Ron's snoring stopped for a few seconds, but returned with equal force. Harry decided to push him and call, "Ron."

Still the red head slumbered. Reaching the end of his patience, Harry grinned as he conjured up a bucket and dumped ice cold water upon his unsuspecting friend.

"Wah!" W-what was that?" Ron spluttered, looking around wildly for his attacker. His eyes landed upon the laughing brunet who still had his wand at the ready. "Harry!"

Wiping stray droplets from his sleeve, Harry gave him a sheepish smile, trying not to laugh at the sight before him, "Sorry, mate, but Hermione's here and she wants to go out. She'll want us ready to go when she is."

"Think its funny, do you?" Ron grabbed his wand from the coffee table and was about hex Harry back when Hermione's half dressed body appeared, hands on hips.

"Ronald Weasley! I thought you were old enough to stop all this childish cursing! And look you're dripping wet," Hermione huffed. "Why aren't you getting ready?"

"But, 'mione, I thought we were staying home tonight. I didn't think I would need to dress up," Ron tried to explain, wringing water from his shirt.

Hermione sighed and looked over at the equally ragged Harry. Both were still in their dirty work robes, one was soaking, and the nether really seemed to have the energy to go out. She had been so excited about her new research project and the deal she had worked out with Malfoy that she had completely forgotten what the guys had probably been through that day.

"How about a deal?" she compromised. "You two go out with me tonight to the club and tomorrow I'll order take out we'll eat in, and listen to Chudley Cannons, my treat?"

Ron gave her a large grin and hugged her, her feet lifting off the ground from such force. He plopped a kiss on her cheek and skipped off to his room to get ready. Hermione raised a hand to her cheek, a girlish grin upon her lips.

"Guess that's a yes," Harry supplied. He loved watching those two interact. His only surprise was that Ron hadn't popped the question yet. He knew it was only a matter of time and was really excited for them, but at the same time he felt lonely. He knew that his friends wouldn't ditch him when they got married, but their relationship would no longer be the same. Their family would become first, and Harry would be unintentionally left out.

"I'm assuming so, "she giggled. "I guess I better go finish getting dressed then. You better hurry too, Harry."

Following her advice, Harry headed off to his room to get dressed and possibly squeeze in a shower as well.

WWwwWWWWwwwwWWwWWW

An hour later found all three squeezed inside a dingy night club with what seemed like a hundred other people. They had found an empty booth under a florescent light and had claimed it as their own. From where they sat they could vaguely see the bar and doorway where a bouncer decided who was allowed in.

They had been dressed to nines when they had shown up outside the club; Hermione in a red slinky dress, Ron dressed in a blue button down shirt and black slacks, and Harry in his smoky grey top and slightly baggy black slacks. Usually they would have ambled over to the back of the line and waited their turn for admittance, possibly spotting an old friend or two; but tonight one of the bouncers had spotted Harry chatting with his friends and pulled him to the front and allowed the trio in. Surprised at their good fortune, the group had collected themselves in their booth before ordering drinks and risking their life out on the dance floor.

"Looks packed tonight, "Harry observed, his eyes scanning the room.

"It'll be a problem actually moving through here, "Ron grumbled a bit.

"I think it looks like fun, "Hermione snapped, elbowing her boyfriend.

Ron quickly plastered a smile on his face, "I was just thinking how it's too bad we won't be able to dance with all these people here."

Hermione cocked her brow and returned with an innocent look of her own, "Dancing? I'm sure we can still dance."

Before Ron could spit out a word of protest, Hermione had pulled Ron out onto the dance floor in an attempt to dance, leaving Harry alone in the booth. Snorting at the other two, Harry strolled over to the bar to get himself something potent to drink.

After squeezing through tight groups of people and couples grinding on the dance floor, Harry finally made it over to the bar and leaned himself up against the counter to order his drink. He had been slowly sipping from his glass when a rather scruffy and burly man sat himself down on one of the stools beside him.

"Martini. Dry," he barked. He leaned away from the counter and checked out the people on either side of him. Noticing the way Harry had been eyeing him, his harsh mouth broke into a lecherous grin. "Well, hello there."

Hesitantly, Harry returned the sentiment, "Hello. How are you?"

"Was feeling lousy, but right now everything's fine!" he guffawed. He turned towards Harry, eyeing him like a piece of meat while doing so. "Aren't you beauty?"

"Umm, thank you I guess," Harry stammered. He didn't like the way the other man was staring at him and was hoping he would lose interest soon.

"I'm sure you get compliments like that all the time. Just look at you! You could probably make a man cum without having to lift a finger," the other man cackled. The bar tender luckily showed up and saved Harry the embarrassment of having to respond to such a lewd comment. He subtly tried to find his friends in the crowd and leave, but before he could go anywhere he felt a hand on his arm. He looked down to see a large hand rubbing his arm in a suggestive manner.

"How about you and me get out of this madhouse and head on back to my place. I'm sure we could find something we could, ah, get 'up' to," the man's rough voice whispered in his ear.

Harry's cheeks burned at the implication as he tried to remove his arm from the other man's grasp, "N-no, thanks! Sorry, not really interested."

Instead of letting go, the man's hand tightened and yanked Harry closer to his sweaty body, "Awh, I'm sure you don't mean that."

Harry pushed against the man's chest, anger finally replacing embarrassment, "Actually, I do. Let go if you don't mind."

The other man pushed himself off the counter and stepped down from the barstool, allowing his towering height and weight intimidate, "No one ever says no to Jacky."

"I just did," Harry argued and turned to leave only to be jerked back against the man's body. Harry could feel something unpleasant digging into his lower back and tried to get away. He couldn't reach the wand in his pocket at the angle the man was holding his arms and no one seemed the least bit interested in what was going on over on their side of the bar.

"Excuse me, but I think you have something of mine," a cold voice addressed the man called Jacky.

"Huh?" the man grunted rotating around, coming face to face with a tall blonde man who was threateningly twirling his wand in his hands.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, shocked at the sudden appearance.

"I would appreciate it if you would remove your foul hands from what is mine," he repeated. "Or are you too dimwitted to understand a simply instruction?"

"I found him first," the burly man grunted.

"Yes, but he's with me. I don't appreciate you manhandling what's mine," Malfoy spat, his eyes as cold as granite. "I would suggest you let go."

The man, obviously not recognizing the type of wizard he was up against, only laughed at the threat, "What's a thing like you going to do?"

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry asked, gaping openly in shock. The name had somehow been a magic word because the bigger man's eyes widened in true terror. Harry was hastily thrown away from Jacky and into the bar counter.

"Malfoy! You didn't say you were a Malfoy!" the man called Jacky cried, earning him a few stares from the people around them. "I didn't realize. So sorry! Right. He's yours!"

Harry felt himself helped up, one hand around his waist and the other holding his hand as he stood up. He stared as Malfoy gave another innocent looking twirl of his wand and the larger man staggered off as quickly as he could without a backward glance.

"What was all that?" Harry finally asked.

Malfoy just shrugged. Harry stood there paralyzed until something smooth touched his fingers. Harry glanced over to see his drink sitting in his hand. He took a swallow and gazed at the blond beside him, sipping his own drink. Harry felt something brush his stomach and glance down to see that Malfoy's arm was still wrapped possessively around him, one hand slowly rubbing circles against his stomach. Instantly, his stomach began to flip flop a bit and goose bumps rose up on his arms.

"Excuse me, Malfoy, but could you let go? He's gone," Harry's voice hitched as he tried to remain unaffected.

Mercury eyes peered down into emerald green, "Why would I do that?"


	5. Chapter 5

Hey so sorry for such a long wait!! I've been super busy and I head off to college in a few days so I've been preparing for that… I edited the last chapter.. or at least edited a few things of last chapter…. My beta went missing so I'm looking for a new one if anyone is interested! Hope you enjoy this chapter

Chapter 5

"Did no one ever teach you about personal space, Malfoy?" Harry snapped, trying to pull out the blonde's grasp.

Reluctantly, Draco let go, sending Harry crashing into the counter top again, "Might want to work on your balance. Did no one ever teach you how to walk, Potter?"

"I can walk fine," Harry muttered, rubbing his aching side.

"Is that what muggles call walking?" Draco laughed, earning him a heated glare from his companion.

"Shut it, Malfoy. Mind leaving me in peace?"

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. Is that anyway to talk to your savior?"

Harry's eyes widened and his cheeks turned a noticeable red color, "You didn't save me. I could handle an idiot like that."

Malfoy's eyebrows rose significantly, "Really? That was you saving yourself? A few more minutes and he would have had you."

"I was fine. I could handle that."

"I'm sure," was the amused reply.

"Piss off, Malfoy."

He was thoroughly pissed off at both the blonde and the whole situation he was in. How could a man who faced not only Death Eaters but Voldemort himself not get away from something as simple as sexual harassment? It didn't help that Malfoy was sitting there all smug about the whole thing.

"Language, Potter," Draco smirked. He had been surprised to see Harry in such a place; not being able to picture him as much of a drinker or dancer. His surprise and excitement quickly vanished upon the appearance of the Jacky fellow. He waited to see how Harry would handle himself, assuming he could handle the other's attention with ease. When Harry was unable to leave the burly man's grip, Draco's stomach dropped. Any second the wizard would apparate out of there with _his_ Harry. Wasting no time, Draco furiously stalked over to the couple; wand clenched tightly in his hand. After he removed Jacky, he felt it was his due to receive some sort of prize for his efforts. "Follow me."

"Follow you? Excuse me? What are you playing at?" Harry questioned, eyes guarded.

Rolling his eyes, Draco just grabbed his drink and pulled the unwilling man towards a booth, "Calm down. I just want to talk and I don't necessarily want the whole populace knowing my business."

"Oh," was all Harry could say and allowed himself to be escorted over to a booth. They had to weave in and out of dancers and groups of people talking, but they eventually made it with only one drink being spilled on Draco's shoe.

"Disgusting," Draco sneered, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh, poor Malfoy. Got his shoe all mucked up," Harry mocked.

"Are you trying to give me a headache?"

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Then I better keep working at it," with that Harry leaned back against the worn seat cushion, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Childish of you," Draco pointed out.

"At least I'm not having a fit over a pair of shoes."

Draco replied with, "These are expensive shoes, Potter. Though I'm not sure you would know what those are."

Frustrated at their little verbal spar, Harry ended it, "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Startled at the bluntness of the question, Draco stared blankly at him for a few seconds before answering, "What I wanted to talk about?"

"Yes. You pulled me all the way over here to talk to me. What about?"

Draco slowly chose his words carefully, "Yes, of course. Well, see here, Potter. I have a little, ah, proposition for you."

Harry leaned forward a tad bit, straining to hear what Malfoy wanted to impart upon him. He noticed how the blonde seemed a bit more anxious than before, unconsciously fiddling with his robe sleeve.

"Yes?"

"You might find it very advantageous for you…"

Before the man could answer, a demanding voice rose above the crowd, "Harry! Harry?"

Harry swiveled his head around to see his two best friends searching the crowd for him. They had obviously just noticed he had gone missing, having never returned from the bar or followed them out onto the dance floor. Hermione seemed slightly frantic; Ron trailing behind in a more lazy fashion. He had not meant to scare them with his disappearance, but Malfoy's appearance had completely driven them from his mind. He raised his hand up, waving them over, "Hermione! Ron! Over here."

Disappointed that his speech had been interrupted by the missing members of the Golden Trio, Draco slumped backwards in the seat, though still trying to appear dignified.

"There you are, Harry! Ron and I were looking all over for you!" Hermione softly scolded.

Ron walked up behind her and gave Harry a mischievous grin, "Picking up a hot date, mate?"

Blushing at the irony of those words, Harry laughed off his uneasy feeling, "Uh, something like that."

Hermione slipped into the seat beside Harry, telling him all about the dance floor and Ron's fumbling dance moves, "Oh, you should have seen it, Harry! It was absolutely hilarious. He was trying to look like all those professional dancers, you know. Only I don't think Ronald here has quite got the balance for such movement."

"Oh, go ahead, Hermione. Think you're the clever one? I didn't see you doing any better," Ron growled. "Besides it was crowded. How is a man supposed to dance with this many people squeezing you in? Could have caused and injury."

Hermione let a giggle escape her lips, "Ron, you were fine. No one noticed besides me."

Ron was about to cut in another argument for his shoddy dancing display, when Draco decided he had been ignored long enough, "That was you, Weasley? I heard some people discussing a menace on the floor. I didn't realize they were talking about _you_."

All three heads turned to look over at the blonde, Ron's ears slowly turning a slightly pink shade. Hermione, surprised to see Malfoy there, peered over at the two men seated beside her. She was amazed that a Potter and a Malfoy had been sitting side by side without causing a scene or hexing each other. She watched Harry more closely to see how he reacted to his sworn enemy. As opposed to being angry or defiant, he was just sitting there calmly, a little shocked that the other man had said something; but not uncomfortable with him beside him. In fact, she noticed how close they were. There was plenty of space for them to all four sit comfortably without having to touch, and yet Harry was practically pressed up against his companion.

"Malfoy?" she asked.

Draco leaned back, a mask of contempt easily replacing his once amiable features, "Ms. Granger, we seem to bump into each other all over, don't we?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to be overwhelmed with stares.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, confused.

"You see it's funny really. Malfoy here was having a bit of a research problem and needed some professional help…"

"Boy does he," Ron muttered. Harry affectively kicked him in response.

"… and since that's what I do for a living I thought I would take on the job," she concluded. She laid her head down against her boyfriend's arm, "That's one of the reasons why I wanted us to go out tonight. Malfoy, in payment, is getting us in to the Hollyhead on the night that your favorite Quidditch player is going to be dining. Our table will be right next to his!"

Ron's first response was to refuse the offer, "I'm not taking anything Malfoy is in league with. I don't care if he has us eating with him!"

"Anything in league with a Malfoy?" Hermione whispered, her eyes glistening with angry tears. "Did I not just tell you that I'm helping him?"

"Yeah, that's another thing why would you do that? It's Malfoy!" Ron cried, puzzled why his girlfriend was sticking up for the little ferret. He couldn't understand why his girlfriend would be willing to be employed by her childhood tormentor. If anything she should be spitting at the very utterance of his name. Things were just not as simple as they used to be.

"Maybe because I'm not ignorant enough to live by prejudice alone!" she snapped. Directing her gaze over to the two men on her side, she nodded to them both, "I'm no longer in the mood to dance anymore. I think I'll head on back to my flat and get in some sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

With that she stood up and swiftly weaved her way in and out of people, heading towards the exit. Harry could only call out a brief 'goodbye' before she was gone from view. Her hasty exits were becoming something of a habit.

"What's her problem?" Ron groused, staring off in the direction she had left.

"Maybe," Draco drawled, "It's your deplorable behavior and comments. Do you not have a filter on that mouth of yours or do you enjoy making people feel like less than desirable?"

"I thought that was your job, Malfoy," Harry intervened, wanting to stick up for his friend against the common enemy.

"Are you saying, Potter, that you agree with this buffoon that Ms. Granger should be talked to like that. My mother would have swatted me with her wand if she ever found out I treated a lady with such disrespect."

"Wasn't it you that always went on about how muggleborns should be treated like sub-humans?" Harry questioned.

"I don't disrespect Hermione!" Ron cried, standing up in indignation.

"Calm down, idiot, before you make a scene," Draco drawled, eyes flitting around the area. "Potter, were you not there during the war? Whose side was I fighting on?"

"Ours," the brunet mumbled.

"Exactly," Draco agreed. "I grew up. Everyone does eventually. I'm sure, Weasley, you will too some day."

"Hey!" Ron shouted, insulted at the comment flung his way.

"Malfoy," Harry warned.

"As I was saying, you tend to take on your parents' view on things as a child, which I was. It's a hard habit to break, especially with parents such as mine. Rebellion was not tolerated in the Malfoy household. We didn't all grow up surrounded by rainbows and daisies, Weasley," Draco sneered, disapproval evident upon his features.

"We all know your story, Malfoy," Harry reminded him. "It's just hard to believe it was a honest transformation."

"I thought your type were all into how a person can change."

Harry was slightly insulted by that, "We do, but give us a break we are only human. For seven years we saw you as an annoying little brat who wished to grow up exactly as his father. Kind of hard to forget."

"As I can see," the blonde stated.

"I don't believe it," Ron expressed, suspicion in his voice.

"Believe what you will," Draco shrugged. "But it has become too crowded in here and I no longer wish to stay."

The man got up, smoothing down his robes; nodded his farewell to both, though Ron ignored it; and headed off to the apparition site at the club.

"Wait!" Harry called. "What about what you wanted to tell me?"

Draco glanced back once and shouted over the crowd, "I will send you an owl."

"Send you an owl?" Ron asked. "What's that all about, Harry?"

"Honestly have no idea."

WWWWWwwwwWWWWwwWWWwWWWWwWWWwwww

It was about one in the morning when both Harry and Ron made it back to their flat. They decided since they were already out and dressed, might as well enjoy what was rest of the evening. They left the club and headed over to a nearby pub where they could listen to a Quidditch game and grab a bite to eat. They knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow when they finally got in touch with Hermione, Ron especially dreading it, and so chose to live this evening a bit wilder than usual. Six shots and four drafts later, they were staggering through their flat doorway, leaning on each other for support.

Ron let go of Harry's shoulder and ambled over to their ragged sofa. His vision swam for a few seconds, giving him time to lose his balance and come crashing onto the floor. Harry, at a slower pace, followed after his best friend and tried to pick him up, "Come on, Ron. Gotsh to get the bed off you."

Ron raised his head and looked around the room, "Thatsh what I'm doing."

"No," Harry tried to reason. "You're lying on the floor."

"It's not sho dizzy here," Ron pointed out. He hesitantly laid his head down on the rug patting the place beside him. "Come, Harry."

Harry attempted to shake his head, but only created more dizziness for himself. He had to lean against the door jam to stop him from following after Ron and landing on the floor. His vision swam in front of him as he tried to make out the room around him. He ignored his friend in favor of his bedroom and hopefully his bed. He stumbled across the room to the narrow hallway. He tripped only once, stubbing his toe against the coffee table's leg. He had to muffle a curse and he held his foot in pain.

"-ry?"

"Go back to shleep, Ron. Going to bed."

"Mmkay," came the sleepy reply. Harry managed to make his way to his bedroom door without too much trouble and pushed it open. He staggered in and flopped stomach first upon his bed. Strangely, there was something pointy poking into his forehead. A heavy arm swiped at the nuisance, coming in contact with an envelope. He raised his head enough to make a blurry outline of a fancy envelope with his name scrawled across the front in a fancy script.

"Hummph," Harry grunted too tired to give the letter much notice. He pulled the letter away from his face and closed his eyes. Five minutes later his soft breathing confirmed his unconscious state.

WWwwWWww

"Harry! Hurry up! We overslept," called a loud and highly irritating voice. Harry raised his groggy body, trying to pull himself up into a sitting position. His head was killing him, a deep throbbing going on behind his eyes and radiating down to his neck. He sat up and the world swam around him. His stomach was in his throat and he felt that if he opened his mouth the entire contents of his stomach would be forced to out onto his bedroom floor.

"Harry?" a red hair poked its way around his door and peered inside. "Ah! You're awake. Feel like shit?"

Harry just glared over at his soon to be ex-best friend.

"Thought so. I left some hangover potion over in the kitchen. I'm late. See you at the Ministry!"

Harry just waved him off. He waited for the sound of the floo before putting hands on either side to try and push himself off the bed. Instead of bedcovers his hand came across a foreign object. He grabbed it up and squinted at the writing across the front. It was addressed to a _MR. HJ Potter._ It had the smooth feeling of one of those fancier envelopes and even contained a family crest in the top left corner.

'Who could be writing to me?' he wondered. More alert now, he pried open the seal and pulled out the letter. His eyes scanned the page and after his was done he read it a second time just to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_You have been cordially invited to attend the Masque Ball on the twelfth of November. It will take place approximately at seven thirty in Malfoy Manor. Please send word as soon as possible if able to attend. We await your owl._

"A ball? With Malfoy?" Harry gasped bewildered.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sitting behind a desk all day is really beginning to wear on my nerves, Harry thought as he rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to remove the ache that was forming there. He leaned back in his chair and slowly removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose, placing them carelessly among the stacks of paper littering his desk. When he joined up the Aurors, he was not aware of the vast amounts of paper pushing he would have to toil through. There wasn't much action since the war ended and it left many a hero doing paperwork for a living.

"Oy, Harry!" a voice called, jolting him out of his revere. "You don't agree with Malfoy, do you?"

Staring blankly back up at the fuzzy image of his best friend, Harry just gaped, "What?"

"Hermione. Do you agree with Malfoy?" Ron asked. Harry sighed and dropped his glasses back upon his nose.

"Where is this coming from? Hermione still in a snit with you from two nights ago?" he wondered, surprised that the witch had stayed angry for so long. She was usually the one who broke up the fights between herself and Ron; not kept them going, that was Ron's job.

Ron sighed and ruffled his hair in exasperation, "Hmm, that's what it would appear like, wouldn't it? I just don't understand. I mean we've gotten into fights before, but never for this long."

"It was only two night ago, Ron. I mean give her a little time. You _were_ a little rude to her," Harry pointed out.

Ron huffed loudly at Harry's comment, "So you do agree with that asshole, Malfoy."

"Now I didn't say that…"

"So now I'm not good enough for you either? What is it with you two? All I hear now is about that ferret!" Ron snapped. "Forget it! Forget I was even here."

"Ron…" Harry started. He was cut off by a blur of brown rushing towards his desk and practically tackling his friend.

"Wha-" Ron wondered. Looking down he saw the beaming smile of his girlfriend hugging his chest. Harry, deeply shocked at Hermione's behavior, laughed at her appearance.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he questioned.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione laughed. "You shouldn't have! I wasn't really all that mad!"

Still puzzled by Hermione's reaction, Ron just continued to mumble, "What?"

"I mean I know I always bugged you about showing some romantic tendencies; but really, a bouquet of red roses for every year we've known each other? That was a little more than even I can handle, but I'll forgive you. Oh, it was definitely a wonderful surprise this morning when I got to work," Hermione giggled. She pulled her unwilling boyfriend closer to her and planted a swift kiss upon his startled lips. "Love you, too, darling."

"Mental," Ron whispered, but couldn't keep the blush from rising in his cheeks and ears. He returned her smile with a goofy grin of his own.

"So, guess you're not angry anymore, Hermione?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione paused slightly and turned her face upwards to Ron's hesitant one, "Well, I'm still a bit miffed, but I can get over something as silly that."

She leaned over Harry's desk, scrunching her nose up at the mess he had made with all his paperwork, and pulled out a thick envelope. It was the same one from a couple of mornings ago, the one with the fancy family crest sitting in the left hand corner. Harry had taken it to the office with him; but since Ron hadn't mentioned anything about attending any sort of ball or function, Harry had thrown it to the side and quickly forgotten about it. Hermione gave a light squeal and opened to the invitation.

"You got one! Oh, I knew you would," she exclaimed. Ron peered over at the invitation, puzzled at the type of reaction it had forced out his normally level-headed girlfriend. "I'm going, too!"

"What is it?" Ron asked, reaching for the envelope to get better a look.

"Nothing," Harry snapped, snatching the letter out of Hermione's hand. "Don't worry about it."

"Really, Harry, what is the problem," Hermione frowned, hands on hips. "I mean honestly, you don't have to be rude about it."

Harry dropped down into his chair and threw the envelope, invitation included, into the already over overfull rubbish bin in the corner of his cubicle. Hermione frowned disappointedly at her friend's childish behavior. Ron continued to look lost between the two.

"I don't see what the big deal. It's just silly ball," Harry rationalized to the irritation of Hermione. "So, I don't go. Ron's not going."

"I'm not going to what!" Ron yelled exasperated by being left out of an important conversation.

Hermione rolled her eyes and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, "Oh, really. Is that the best you have? And for your information, Ron is going. He wasn't sent an invitation since he would just toss it out. I was sent one as well and instructed to bring a date. Therefore, Ron will be attending."

By this time Ron was tired of all his questions being ignored and angrily slammed his fist upon Harry's desk, upsetting all loose items to the floor. Taken back by their friend's outburst, Harry and Hermione jumped back away from the irate red-head.

"Well? Going to explain to the oblivious one over here what's going?"

"Sorry," both mumbled. Hermione hesitantly placed a hand upon Ron's arm, instantly calming him down a bit, "It's nothing serious, Ron. Malfoy has invited us to a very special ball. The three of us have been invited and I'm trying to convince Harry here to attend with us."

Harry huffed and began to pick up the papers that had fallen to the floor. Ron, instead of blowing up in anger like Harry expected him to, sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and slowly bit out, "Would that make you happy, Hermione, if we went?"

Shocked at her boyfriend's mature behavior, Hermione could only manage to nod her head. Indignant that his best friend had become a traitor to his cause, Harry snidely commented, "So everyone's going to that snobby ball now?"

"Really, Harry, I expected more out of you. Especially after last night when you appeared to be all cozy with Malfoy in that booth. If I hadn't known any better, I would have assumed you two were about to get – "

"Hermione!" Ron cried in shock. Harry, on the other hand, was trying to hide a blush from rising in his cheeks. He definitely remembered the way Malfoy's leg had been pressed up against his at the club and absently began to wonder if the rest of Malfoy's body was as hard and muscular as his thigh. He was brought out f his musings by Ron's gasp of astonishment, "Harry would never even consider dating a man, much less that scum Malfoy!"

Hermione eyed the blushing brunet who was desperately trying to keep her from saying anything more incriminating, "Whatever, Ron."

"I mean really, the idea that Harry here-"

"That's enough, Ron. You've defended my honor sufficiently," Harry sighed, trying to calm down his erratic heart rate. For a moment he was worried that Hermione would admit to her (and his if he allowed it) suspicions about his sexuality. It wasn't something he had truly worked out for his own and he didn't need to deal with Ron's possible prejudice while coming to grips with his preference.

"Good," Ron proudly smiled. "Now, about this ball. I'm willing to put up with all the pureblood bigotry because you, Hermione, want to go. But Harry's got to come, too. I want someone normal I can talk to while Hermione's off playing nice with her new boss."

Hermione grinned widely and hugged Ron tightly, "Oh, thank you so much, Ron, for being so mature about all this. See, I knew you were a gentleman all along! You must come, Harry, Ron here will be so bored without you."

Looking at their pleading expressions, he knew he would end up giving in eventually, "Fine. I'll go, but I'm not staying long. Oh and if there's any press there, I'm hightailing it out of there. I'm not standing around as a photo opts for those rich snobs."

"Understandable," Hermione agreed, "But I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. This is a private ball. Very exclusive."

Ron gave her a puzzled look, "Then why would Malfoy invite us? He hates us."

"I guess you'll just have to ask him when you see him next," Hermione replied slyly, "Now I've got to dash. Got to turn in some information on my big project. You two try and get some actual work done today!"

Both Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at her bossiness and waved her off, Ron getting one more peck in before she headed off to the Floo.

WWWWwwwwWWWWwwwwWWWWwwwWWWwwww

Elegance and wealth practically danced off the walls in the room Hermione found herself in upon leaving the Floo. The room appeared to be some sort of foyer with wood paneled walls, painted an off-white color. The designs carved into the walls were edged in gilt paint, giving the room an aristocratic feel. Gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, though were held there by magic since the ceiling opened up to a skylight above. The light from the ceiling was reflected off the white marble flooring, but softened with royal blue Persian carpets and a plant or two arranged throughout. It was definitely a welcoming sight, especially after leaving the mess that Harry and Ron called an office.

She had left the two men with the intent to head straight for her office and finish up some paperwork, but just as she was leaving, she had spied Harry gingerly removing his invitation from the rubbish bin. It was all she could do not to giggle at her pleasure and decided that the information she had gathered for Malfoy could not wait. She had called out 'Malfoy Enterprises!' and was now headed towards the rather large front desk in front of her.

Reaching the desk, Hermione smiled sweetly down at the receptionist who seemed to be reading some sort of romance novel. Turning red at being caught in such a position, the other woman, a curly red-head, stuffed the book under her desk and haughtily demanded, "Can I help you?"

A little put off by the woman's demeanor, Hermione's smile faltered slightly, "Yes, I would like to see Draco Malfoy please."

Eyeing Hermione's plain clothes and messy bun, she smiled in a not so sweet way, "Do _you_ have an appointment?"

Frowning now, Hermione huffed, gripping the briefcase in her hand a bit more tightly, she replied, "No, but I-"

"No appointment, no admittance. I'm sorry," the red-head sniffed, "it's a company policy. I'm sure you'll understand."

Angered at the woman's dismissal, for that was exactly what it was, Hermione snapped, "I'm sure _you'll_ understand that he's expecting me. I just haven't called ahead."

"If he hasn't informed me that you're to be expected there's nothing I can do."

"I didn't have time to call ahead!" Hermione impatiently cried.

"Then I'm sorry. Come back tomorrow when he's given you clearance."

Trying desperately not to lose her temper, she dropped her briefcase on the ground and placed both hand s upon the receptionist's desk in a threatening manner, "Listen. Send him a message and ask to let me in. Simple as that."

The receptionist rudely replied with a "He doesn't like to be disturbed."

"If you don't disturb him I'll-"

"Amanda, bring up the Altair file," ordered a familiar commanding voice.

"Malfoy!" Hermione cried.

Shooting Hermione a glare, the receptionist began to apologize, "Sorry, sir, this woman here has been trying to get in to see you. I know how busy you are and-"

"Granger?" the voice asked.

"Yes, that would be me. I've brought along the-"

"Right. I'll be down in a few minutes to bring you on up. If you wouldn't mind waiting for me, that is."

Giving the bitchy receptionist a hundred watt smile, Hermione agreed, "I'll be waiting."

"Thank you. Amanda, the Altair file!"

Hermione daintily picked up her briefcase and sauntered over to a comfortable looking cream sofa, lowering herself into the seat. She ignored the disgruntle woman behind the desk and picked up one of the magazines laid out upon the mahogany coffee table. It was useless bit drudgery, but it helped fill the time waiting for Malfoy to finish what ever sort of business he had been dealing with before she arrived.

After sitting for a few short minutes, a door to the left of the large front desk appeared and out marched the figure of Draco Malfoy. Instantly, the woman labeled Amanda straightened her shoulders and smiled enticingly over at her boss, "Is there anything I can get for you Mr. Malfoy?"

Ignoring the witch out front, he held out his hand to the slightly shocked brunette, "How are you today, Ms. Granger. I must say I was surprised to hear your voice in my office. I was sure it would be some time before I would see you again."

Laughing at Malfoy's flirtatious mannerisms and his receptionist obvious assumptions about the relationship between the two of them, Hermione grasped the hand in front of her, marveling at its smoothness, and answered in turn, "You know me. Once I get a hold of a challenge I like to see it through."

Raising an eyebrow at the woman's tone, Malfoy began to lead Hermione through the door he had just frequented. Hermione threw one last wink at the offending Amanda, giggling to herself at the expression of absolute horror on the other woman's face.

After walking through the terribly complex office building that headed Malfoy Enterprises, the two made their way into a spacious room where an older witch was diligently filling out forms and paperwork. She had dark hair streaked with grey and pulled back in a rather severe looking bun. She looked up for a moment, acknowledging their presence, before continuing along with her work.

"Madge, reschedule my appointment with new contractors and should anyone show up needing my attentions, tell them I'm busy until further notice," Malfoy ordered, as he opened the door leading into his own personal office.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. It will be taken care of," the older woman replied.

Hermione was immediately swept into the other office and placed into a rather comfortable chair, facing a large oak desk. Malfoy sauntered over to his own desk chair and lowered himself slowly, as to appear like he was in no special hurry to hear what ever it was that Hermione had brought.

He ushered a hand in her direction, "Well, what sort of information have you brought?"

Rolling her eyes at the man's antics, she pulled out a thick folder from her briefcase and carefully handed it over, making sure no loose parchments were dropped, "I went through in a my spare time and located the medical records of the wizards in our country. It was actually rather interesting what sort of-

'Merlin, that woman can talk,' Draco sighed to himself, getting impatient to hear her news. He opened the file and rifled through the medical profiles on each wizard. 'Interesting. I wasn't aware McNair had had-'

"Are you even paying attention, Malfoy?" Hermione huffed. "I'm giving up my lunch hour in order to assist you, so the least you could do is pay attention to what I'm telling you."

Draco looked up from where he had been perusing each profile. There were a few there that had been a little disappointing, especially upon discovering that some of the wizards he had been seriously considering where in fact straight XY males, "I was in fact paying attention to what you saying, Ms. Granger. I'm greatly in your debt for helping me through my time of trouble and if you ever need anything you have only just to ask."

Taken back by the Malfoy charm, Hermione could only nod, "Yes, well… So I marked the ones with the desired XXY chromosomes for easier reference."

Draco nodded, making his way through the N's, "I see that. I was not aware that XXY males are such a dying breed. I would have thought there would have been more available, especially in the pureblood families."

"I agree. As I was this information up, I decided to do a little side research on them. It seems the mother during pregnancy need some sort of magic surrounding her during the final stages when gender is created. This is why muggle XXY males can't give birth like wizards can, there's no magic surrounding them. The magic recognizes that the mother is in a safe place and therefore breeding is safe. The ability to breed then gets passed on down to her son. I'm assuming with the war going on, few mother's felt safe enough for their magic to allow a XXY male to be created," Hermione informed.

"Hmm," Draco intoned, acknowledging that he heard. He had reached the P's and noticing fewer and fewer choices for a possible mate.

"My problem is that I was not able to access the German or French records. They have some sort of procedure that keeps foreign wizards from gaining their information."

"No French," Draco muttered. He had reached one such profile that had kept his attention. There in black ink recorded Harry James Potter as a XXY male.

"What? You're removing the French names from you're list?"

"Hmm, yes, well the male ones," he absently explained. 'Potter was a breeder? He could give birth?'

"I guess that does solve half of my problem," Hermione mused. "They were the ones giving me the most trouble. I think I have a friend over in the German records building. Going to be some problems. What with their history of having so many different governments and being split up into tiny dukedoms for so many years. Definitely will be a challenge."

"Yes, yes," Draco murmured. Potter could give birth to tiny Malfoy heirs. Beautiful blonde-haired green eyed children. And they would be beautiful, what with own looks and Potter's combined. It was a wonder someone else hadn't snatched up such a prize. Wealth, prestige, beauty, and not to mention the stories of how Potter was in bed. Now that was something to look forward to…

"I guess I will go now and try to get a hold of the German records…"

"Hmm… yes"

'How perfect…'


End file.
